[Log] Oh Captain, My Captain
Who: Namikaze Minato and Shiranui Genma When: Sept 12 Where: Cafeteria, Minato's room What: Genma seeks out his Hokage. But old friendships can't just be picked up where they left off, especially not when only one person remembers them. Awkwardness and some confusion ensues. Warnings: Some innuendo, rather mild. Open or Closed: Closed Observable: The part in public.
Genma was still new to this world, and working on navigating his way around it. He was starting to learn about some of the more popular fighters, and hear more about the various economic and social structures. He was formulating ideas for how to make his way in the world, though much of it probably would involve fighting in the games, and considering how much he could do outside of that without potentially getting in Izumo’s - or anyone else’s - way.
At the moment, he was researching the fights, which was... rather complicated. He couldn’t just go watch them in person, since apparently those taking part were transported to the arena and they weren’t somewhere you could just... go. Of course, he had glimpsed the group watching in the common room when Izumo had first shown him around, so he’d gone back to check that out.
He sat in the back by himself, his drooping lids making it seem as if he might not be paying attention at all. In fact, he was gathering as much information about each combatant as he could from each fight that came onto the screen, as well as from the conversations going on around him. There were obvious crowd favorites, and occasionally people would talk about fights they had won or lost themselves against the combatants as they watched.
He was, of course, completely objective so far. He didn’t know many people in this world, still fewer that actually took part in this sport, if sport you could call it.
When, however, a spiky blond head appeared, he immediately clenched his teeth around his senbon. Naruto, his first thought would have been, if he hadn’t known that Minato was here. It was easier to think of the son than the father, when the Fourth Hokage had been dead for so very long. Especially when the Minato on the screen was younger than Genma had ever seen or known him, about as young as Genma had been himself, when he’d become a bodyguard.
Every muscle in Genma’s body felt too tense.
He watched, his senbon held tight between his teeth, for the entire fight, feeling as if he couldn’t breathe. What he wanted was to go to the arena, somehow, and place himself bodily between his Hokage and the other combatant. That was just silly, of course, for a number of reasons. Minato was stronger than he would ever be, and Genma was sure that was true even with his years of experience over this younger Minato. And... this Minato wasn’t his Hokage. Not yet.
Still, Genma fought off an itchy have-to-move feeling through the entire fight, and when it was over, he stood and slouched his way out of the common room, without a word to anyone watching.
Finding the room wasn’t that difficult, since they were all labeled. He didn’t know how long he’d have to wait, of course, but that didn’t so much matter. When Minato returned to his room, he would find a jounin-uniformed shinobi sitting with his back against the door, a backward bandanna on his head and a long thin needle bobbing between his lips, eyes heavy-lidded and inscrutable. Forcibly calm, oh so forcibly calm.
One of the most important rules in the world of shinobi: Never let your enemy know your strengths or weaknesses. Sometimes that was easier said than done. And sometimes a shinobi had to take a fall or two to protect those secrets.
Having something like a seal tattooed on his back made Minato even more cautious. But being capable of fighting without using too much chakra was part of basic taijutsu training. The problem lay in the fact that he’d gotten used to his new jutsu and moving fast enough to avoid injury, to himself and to his teammates. Getting back to basics was taking a little practice. And he had a few bruises to remind him of that fact. But it was all apart of his plan so he could take a few bruises to his ego. Or his shoulder. Or his back.
But with each fight he pushed a little further, exposed a little more, testing his limits and the limits of the so called seal. He was very interested in how far they would let him get before they used it to cut off his chakra.
So most of the walk back to his room was full of half-distracted thoughts of chakra and seals. Minato wasn’t expecting to find someone waiting for him. Especially not a jounin. And not one in uniform. It seemed everyone he met from home had taken to wearing bits and pieces of uniforms and regular clothes. Izumo’s socks still amused him.
In fact, Izumo’s socks were what was on his mind when he disappeared and reappeared behind the door, jerking it open.
When Genma fell backward into the room, it was with a grin on his face. He could have avoided the fate, but chose not to, though the clang of the forehead protector against the back of his skull made him almost wish he had.
He laughed, anyway. A soft laugh of relief and real amusement, because this was... Minato.
“Hello to you too, Minato-sama,” he said, still grinning up and not attempting to move from his sprawl on the floor at the other man’s feet.
Minato crouched, a small smile on his lips. He was getting used to be called Minato-sama. And he was getting used to the idea that one day he will achieve his goal and become Hokage. He’s always accepted the fact that he would die. But he’s still being careful not to ask when or how old. It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Or so he tells himself. So long as he died doing what is right for his village and the villagers. But this shinobi’s reaction to him seems different than any of the others. It’s the familiarity of comrades who know each other well.
“Not Hokage-sama. I’m assuming we know each other well, then?” he smirked, pushing to his feet with a soft groan and snorting at himself. “I sound like an old man. Jiraiya-sensei would be so amused right now. I think I teased him about his age one too many times.”
“I feel like you should be teasing me for my age, looking at you,” Genma said wryly. He shifted a shoulder under him and then rolled, clenching his teeth on the senbon a little to keep it between his lips as he moved. Then he was sitting up properly at least, and enough on the ‘inside’ side of the door that Minato could close it, if he wanted.
He didn’t stand. Nor did he bow, though that was a temptation.
“See, here’s the problem. For me, I knew you very well... when I was about the age you are now. For you... we haven’t met yet. It makes things a little complicated, doesn’t it?”
He kept his voice light, somehow.
“Complicated enough that you may want to come inside to discuss this.” Minato smiled, watching this unfamiliar and yet familiar shinobi curiously. This man knew him very well it seems. Well enough to wait at his door for him to return. “Or would you prefer taking a walk to get some tea?”
Genma was silent for a moment, considering. He would prefer to speak to Minato in a private place, to some extent, but the idea of going to have tea would be nice. It would give him something to do with his hands, if this got a little awkward. Which he had a feeling would be the case.
So he pushed himself fluidly to his feet, took a step out the door, and then offered a grin.
“Tea sounds very good. And then I’ll attempt to make some sort of sense, rather than letting my jaw drop to the floor over how young you look. Even fresh from battle.”
“Pointing out how young someone looks is almost as bad as pointing out how old they look.” Minato pointed out, walking past the older shinobi and heading for the cafeteria. “For example, I could refer to you as old man, but that would be very rude. Or is your name a secret? Like the symbol on your headband?”
“Hmm...” Genma looked as if he were considering the response, because it was amusing to know something Minato didn’t, for once. But he had no interest in being called ‘old man’, and he didn’t relish explaining that symbol, either, or current Konoha situations. Perhaps he’d get off easy by saying it wasn’t good to know too much of the future, but if he’d really believed that, he would have stayed away from Minato.
He laughed, shrugged his shoulders.
“No, it’s not a secret. Shiranui Genma. Considering...” He frowned a little, trying to put together the time frame in his head. “You know my family at least, and my sisters are around your age, little bit younger. The symbol is a very long story, and I’d rather tackle easier things first.”
Like why he’d sought MInato out in the first place.
“Shiranui. I do know your family and your sisters. Unfortunately, not as well as I should. I’ve been...busy.” Busy was just another word for neck deep in missions and the war, but he didn’t need to explain that to Genma. “How old would you be then?”
“You’re not yet twenty, are you?” Genma asked, furrowing his brow.
“Eighteen.” Minato replied, turning away long enough to order his favorite tea. Ordering tea from a drone bothered him a little. Tea wasn’t meant to be made by a drone. But what could he do? Taking the tea with them, he led the way towards a place for them to sit and talk in relative privacy.
Genma was letting Minato lead, since he had really not been in this place long at all himself. He gave a nod to the response, it being pretty much what he’d have expected. He even let Minato carry his tea for him, as funny as that seemed.
He laughed quietly, held out a hand to his side, quite a ways down his chest.
“I’m about this tall, at that time. Still in Academy, already having the abominable senbon-chewing habit, and probably completely invisible to most adults. 8 or 9, I think.”
“Is this good?” Minato asked, nodding to a slightly out of the way place to sit and avoid most onlookers. He held out Genma’s tea for him. “I recently became a sensei for a precocious student. You must be close to graduating. Or were....” Minato frowned, trying to imagine Genma smaller.
“It’ll do,” Genma said, taking the tea and setting it on the table before flopping into a chair. He looked up at Minato and laughed yet again. “Was, yes. Obviously that’s quite some time in the past for me, now. It’s all a little confusing, isn’t it?”
He turned the cup a little. “Just to clear things up a little, so you understand just why I came to find you, I’d normally be the one handing you your tea, after you’d forgotten where you left it thinking too hard. Hokage guard, starting quite some time from your now obviously. Little less than ten years, I think.”
“That would explain the familiarity.” Minato smiled softly, taking his seat and sipping his tea. “It is confusing. And it complicates things. How much information is too much?” And then his smile widened, turning into a small laugh. “Kushina stopped offering me my tea and started dumping it on my head whenever I got too distracted with my studies. She said it was a waste of good tea either way. She’s not as patient as you are.”
Genma pressed his lips together tight, the senbon twitching a little. “I have to admit I have been privy to such an occurrence, once or twice.” He leaned back in his chair a little more, slouched, trying to affect his usual manner. It was a little more difficult than usual, just now.
“Teenage boys obsessed with heroes can be quite patient with them,” he said with a soft laugh, and then winked. “Now, it might be an entirely different matter. However... I think it will have to be you who decides how much information is too much, Minato-sama.”
“Damn woman.” Minato murmured, feigning annoyance even though his eyes twinkled with fondness. “I guess I'll have to get used to having tea dumped on my head.”
Because Kushina was his love and when he found his way home he was going to ask her to marry him. He lifted his gaze to meet Genma’s, snorting softly, “You were waiting for me at my door. Patiently, I might add. And you’re still calling me Minato-sama. But sharing the fact that Kushina is apart of my life when I become Hokage is nice to hear even if I should be asking myself how much is too much. Telling me about the future won’t change the future unless I allow it too.”
Knowing about Uchiha itachi was a very good example of his dilemma. He still hadn’t decided what his decision would be once he returned home. He needed more information. Information he couldn’t find until he returned home.
“Asshole,” Genma muttered, a pout coming to his lips. He hadn’t changed all that much, in some ways, maybe. And while he’d served the Third, and the Fifth, there was something very different about the way he related to them than to Minato. Teenagers, and heroes. Or maybe just shinobi and heroes.
He shuffled the senbon to the side of his mouth, took a small sip of the tea, then shrugged a shoulder.
“I’m still reeling over this whole situation, so I don’t know very much about all that complex changing the future stuff. All I know is that... I wouldn’t want to tell you everything. On a larger scale, there’s just... it’s too much. Even the few years between when I came from and Izumo came from is too much, so all that time... it’s far too much.”
There was something sad and tired in his voice, and he felt quite old, for the moment, staring into the clear blue eyes across from him.
“Another war.” Minato guessed, not bothering to hide how unsettled the thought made him. Everyone believed him to be a hero for whatever it is he does in the future. But in the end he failed if his beloved village has been thrown into another war. So many questions he can not ask, dare not ask, and so many answers he needs if he’s going to make the right decisions. “If you know me well, as I believe you do if you save my tea from being dumped on my head, then you’ll know I do not pry unless I must.”
He sipped his tea for a moment, losing himself in his thoughts before asking, “How long after I die?”
Genma did not like this question. He didn’t like telling Minato when he died, didn’t like making it known how short his rule as Hokage had been, or how little time he’d had to experience so many things in life. He didn’t want to talk about the fact that he was now older than Minato had been when he died.
He didn’t like any of this.
But Minato was right; he would only pry when he had to. Which obviously meant that in this case it felt necessary. So Genma took another sip of his tea, gathering his wits about him, and then spoke very softly.
“It’s been over a decade and a half. This war, I don’t think... there’s much that you could have done to change it. And you’ll forgive me, I hope, if I’m a little awed by being in your presence again, since you know that now.”
“There is nothing to forgive. I understand.” Minato said softly, staring directly into Genma’s eyes. He couldn’t have failed too miserably if he’d earned the loyalty and respect of this man. But it was hard to accept that there isn’t much he could do about a future war even if he does live to see it. It isn’t in his nature to accept it. And a decade and a half isn’t too far away if his calculations are correct. “Since you’re my personal guard I feel like I can ask you something very serious and receive a straight answer.”
“Damn you.” The words were muttered under Genma’s breath, but there was a puff of laughter that came after them. He leaned his head back a little, slid down in his chair a little more.
“Yes, you’ll always get a straight answer from me, Minato.”
Not -sama, this time. That was for himself, for his own mind. Reminding himself the he was talking to an eighteen-year-old, to a younger version of his Hokage, and that he was the one who needed to be at least somewhat an adult here. But the thing was that... Minato hadn’t just magically become Hokage one day. He hadn’t just suddenly become wise or ready for that role. He’d earned it, and he’d already been working hard at this point, too. So he couldn’t really completely divorce himself from the respect he had for the man.
“Did I look good in the Hokage hat? I always thought it looked good on Sandaime-sama, but Kushina laughs whenever she imagines me wearing it.” Minato tilted his head a bit, leaning back in his chair, as serious as he could be considering his question. But he could see how heavily everything was weighing on the man. Being here. Leaving behind a war. Seeing his soon to be dead Hokage for the first time in over a decade and trying to find the right balance. Minato had no memory of Genma, but Genma carried everything he ever felt for him around even now.
That had certainly not been the type of question he’d expected. Genma blinked for a second, not bothering to try to cover his surprise, and then pushed himself up, leaned over the table a little. Imparting an important secret, of course.
His eyes sparkled and his senbon bobbed between his teeth as he answered, a grin spreading.
“Well, to be honest... I always thought it looked a little silly on you. Flattened your hair all funny, made you look like a kid playing dress up, with the big goofy smile of yours.”
He held his teacup up between them, as if it were a shield.
“Damn. I was sure I would look handsome and powerful.” Minato frowned. Pouted, reaching out to bump the bottom of Genma’s tea cup. “How long have you waited to tell me that? Or did you wait? I bet you teased me about my hat every chance you got? Brat.”
Genma laughed, lifted his cup to take another sip, and then shrugged his shoulders.
“I might have teased you about it... once or twice. A little. When you needed to laugh.” He reached up, tugged at his bandanna a little, and then shrugged. “If I’d been perfectly behaved, we wouldn’t have gotten along so well.”
“A team that plays well together accomplishes many things.” Minato smiled. And then it slowly faded into something weaker and less guarded. “I know you remember me and our time together. I wish I could say I remember it as well. And as much as I hate any of us having to be here, your arrival, the timing is...appreciated.”
There aren’t many things in the world, or his life, things he’s seen or done that he allows to affect him so deeply he struggles to move past it.
Genma wrinkled his nose a little at that. He slid his eyes to the side, taking a very subtle look around the room, just to be sure that no one they knew was close by. Their little area was pretty secluded, though, and he felt sure it was safe enough, even without any type of jutsu to protect them.
“I actually wasn’t sure how to play this. It might have been better not to... try to in some way resume my position close to you. But when Izumo-kun greeted me, I heard you had already had some trouble, and I thought...”
He paused. “I thought having a clear ally might help you. And if there’s anything you need to prove I am that, you may have it.”
“Even if it means inflicting pain and possible injury?” Minato asked, picking up his cup and taking a sip, eyes on Genma. He didn’t hesitate to ask the moment Genma offered. He needed an ally, but he also needed someone strong enough to help him figure things out.
Genma cocked an eyebrow, flicked his senbon, and said absolutely nothing.
He was a shinobi. What kind of question was that, even?
“Upon your beloved Hokage?” Minato clarified, mimicking Genma’s expression.
“If it is for something that will ultimately be of help to you, then yes.” Genma could be very serious, when he had to be. This should have been one of those times.
Except that it was when things were at the worst that he most had to make a joke, unless he was in some way censured from it. So the eyebrow crept closer to his bandanna, and he added, “You know, when I was saying I’d prove my loyalty, I wasn’t imagining it in quite the way you are, I think, Minato-sama.”
“Really? You weren’t imagining being tied up and spanked?” Minato asked. He’d spent most of his life around Jiraiya-sensei. He’s not going to blush over something like this. And he gets the feeling this is something familiar to Genma. The teasing, jokes, and half serious conversation. He’s very much looking forward to becoming Hokage now that he has an idea of what to look forward to.
“No, see, that would have been fine. It’s the ‘inflicting it on you’ part that’s the shocking part.”
There was an undercurrent of nervousness to the way Genma slid his hands around his cup and held onto it, but he could at least hope that Minato didn’t catch it, not knowing him as well as he would later. That might be a blessing, in some ways.
He offered a smile. “The other part would just be one more day at the office.” The same kind of teasing he’d done with Izumo, really. Of course, Minato would never have done such a thing, and he’d know it, but it made for a fun joke.
“Until Kushina found us.” Minato smirked, holding his cup to his lips and then suddenly looking surprised, “Is that how I die?” He looked away and grumbled, “Not a very honorable death if you ask me.”
He sipped his tea for a moment, making a face because it was already getting cold. He’d prefer his own pot and cup and fresh tea to pour as he worked.
“What I need you to do to me is something like breaking a genjutsu. For some reason, instead of a collar, I’ve been given a tattoo....a seal to control my chakra.”
Genma laughed easily at the image of Kushina killing her errant husband over his own younger self. He had no intention of talking with Minato about that man’s death, but being able to joke about it was nice, at least.
“You’ve seen the future, poor man,” he responded, playfully. The image of Kushina’s face was so clear in his mind at the thought that it surprised him; it had been a very long time since he’d seen that face. He hadn’t been close to her except through Minato, but... he smiled at the image. He wished, suddenly, that he could say something to Minato about other aspects of the future, about a certain young man he’d be very proud of... but no.
Better to focus on what he could do here and now.
“I had heard that not everyone had the collar, but I haven’t met enough people to make any kind of real survey about it,” he said, reaching up to touch a finger to his own collar. His eyes raked over Minato, but he hadn’t seen any tattoo.
“I am assuming we’d need to go back to your room if you’re going to have me take a look?”
“If you don’t mind.” Minato glanced around, started to take another sip of his tea and changed his mind. Too cold. He set it on the table, assuming someone would collect it. “I wonder if I could get my own teapot and tea for my room.”
“I’m sure it’s possible. If you’d like, I can find that for you.” Izumo would know, and if not, there was that Gin Charlie guy that Izumo had mentioned, though the rumor was that he wasn’t around at the moment. Still, a teapot didn’t seem like a difficult thing to get ahold of, and Genma had already poked around the kitchen itself, where supplies seemed fairly openly available.
“Oh, right, you wouldn’t...” Genma started, because he’d have expected Minato to know he’d have done such a thing. But of course, Minato didn’t remember him at all, so he didn’t know what Genma’s particular interests and habits were. This was going to be difficult to keep in mind.
Genma offered a self-deprecating smile, didn’t bother finishing the sentence, and waved a hand. “You can go into the kitchen, they’ll let you back, or at least, Izumo’s young friend and I poked around there already. There doesn’t seem to be any lack of supplies, so pilfering tea wouldn’t be difficult.”
He pushed himself out of his chair, surveyed the nearby area for safety as he stepped away from the table.
“The last time I tried to pilfer things from a kitchen I got beat over the head by angry redhead.” Minato frowned, rubbing the back of his head. That had only been three weeks ago. And it reminded him of how much he’d been looking forward to going home from his last mission only to end up here. Killing a Konoha shinobi. A child of a friend.
“She keeps a secret stash of my favorite tea. Never steal from a kunoichi with a temper like Kushina’s. I woke up an hour later and she refused to cook for me.” He added, moving past Genma and heading back to his room.
Anyone who didn’t know him wouldn’t see any difference in Genma’s demeanor as he followed Minato, but there was a very subtle change in his attitude. He was always on guard anyway, as a shinobi, though he never showed it. But now he was on guard in a different way, and it wasn’t himself he was concerned with.
Falling back into having someone to protect just made things easier.
He laughed comfortably at the mention of pissed-off kunoichi. “Ah, women with tempers. Have to love them, don’t you?”
“Or they’ll hurt you, yes.” Minato agreed, with a soft snort. “Don’t ever tell Kushina I said that.”
Seriously. Kushina would probably never cook for him again. Or worse. Never have sex with him again. And that was not something he wanted to think about when he was trapped so very far away from her at the moment. Especially since that had been the plan when he returned home from his mission.
And right now he could use a bit of home. A trip to the hot springs would be nice. The familiar scent of home. A place where he could work through his thoughts properly.
“Izumo-san...what did he tell you...about my trouble?” he asked when they reached his room and there were fewer people to overhear them.
Genma looked around for a second, as he hadn’t really done before, and then sprawled himself rather carelessly across Minato’s bed. The lack of formality made a nice reminder for him, in a way.
“He didn’t give me a lot of detail.” Genma was not a genius, and his natural mental talents weren’t anything particularly special. He was, however, a veteran shinobi, and he’d trained himself to think in certain ways. Thus, there was a lot of whirring going on behind his impassive eyes as he spoke. “He was concerned because you were at outs with Itachi, and he wasn’t sure what that would mean for me, when I immediately displayed loyalty to you.”
He didn’t say anything about his own thoughts on the matter, of what type of inquiries he’d been making around in his short time here. Didn’t talk about how he very much didn’t want to set himself up opposite Izumo, or how he hadn’t yet had a chance to meet the other shinobi here, including Itachi.
“Genma.” Minato kept his back turned to the older man, busying himself with unwrapping his wrists. They had just met and he really didn’t know anything about Genma. But what little he did know from talking to him was enough. He trusted Genma in a way he knew he wouldn’t understand completely for some time. Perhaps bonds were strong enough to be felt through time. It was an interesting thought.
“This isn’t Konoha and I’m not your Hokage. Until I find a way to send us all home there is no reason for any of you to trust me or to do anything other than protect yourselves. So...if you want to walk out that door and never speak to me again...I won’t hold it against you. Now or in the future.”
The hardest thing about that statement was... not falling off the bed as he burst out into laughter. In fact, Genma had to put a hand down on the floor and push himself back up, as bright peals of amusement filled the room. Minato just sounded so very earnest in the words, and that combined with the ridiculousness of the whole situation finally got Genma badly enough that he couldn’t do anything but laugh.
“R-right, I’ll be on.. my way now...” he gasped out finally, flopping his head back against the bed and grabbing at his senbon with his hand to keep from hurting himself with it.
“Smartass.” Minato frowned, turning to face Genma and removing his shirt. Somehow he didn’t think it would be that easy, but he had to try. “I’ve been on more solo missions than anyone in the village, Genma. I can handle this without causing you more trouble. Unless...” He raised an eyebrow at Genma. “You really just wanted me to take off my clothes. Are we that close in the future, Genma-san?”
Genma snorted, and it took him another moment to really respond, as he pushed himself up into a sitting position again and settled his senbon back in place. His bandanna had fallen to the floor, and his loose hair was pushed back idly with one hand.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Minato-sama,” he said with a grin. “Though I have to admit, you’re pretty cute younger than me.” He didn’t mind the teasing, and in fact it wasn’t really that out of place. After all, Minato had been a student of Jiraiya, so a bit of perversion was to be expected, but it wasn’t as if Genma had ever, now or then, taken such jokes seriously.
He lifted a finger and twirled it around in the air. “Turn, give us a show.”
“Did I teach you anything about advanced seals?” Minato asked, turning around so Genma could inspect the tattoo. The question was more to give them something to talk about than really asking. He assumed Genma being his guard meant he had taught the man many things.
Genma shifted, slipped to the edge of the bed, and settled his feet on the ground. The position put him in line with the tattoo fairly well, and he reached out to touch it, focusing on the pattern, feeling for any sense of chakra.
His touch was businesslike, impersonal, just as it would be if he were healing someone.
“I know something about them, yes. From you and others. This is... it doesn’t have quite the same feel to it a seal should, I think it might take some research. I could try simply breaking it with my own chakra, or we could see if physical damage to the tattoo does anything. Seems sort of crude, but I’m assuming that’s what you meant to try on your own?”
“That is exactly what I had in mind. By any means necessary to complete the mission and return everyone safe.”
Everyone should include Itachi, but he can’t change what he did.
“I’d like to try testing it’s limits first, find out what exactly triggers the seal. Itachi...made a comment when we first met about how ‘they’ didn’t want me to...fight him.”
Perhaps ‘they’ watched all the time and controlled when punishment was given. Maybe the power wasn’t actually in the seal itself, but the person controlling it.
“Always good to know what you’re dealing with, first, and we might want to think about how to conceal that it’s not working, if we do manage to break it. An escape from a place where we were brought by some strange technology isn’t necessarily going to be simply a matter of force.”
Genma wrinkled his nose. This stank far too much of the same kind of abuse of power that was happening in his own world, and there was nothing he hated more than that. Playing with the lives of others in such ways... he couldn’t accept it.
He drew his hand back, fumbled in a pouch for a second. “Hold still for just another minute though, I’d like a sketch of it to work with, at least.”
“Maybe someone who wasn’t brought here by this machine will recognize the markings, but we’ll have to be very careful not to arouse suspicion.”
Minato was quiet for moment before glancing back at Genma, a small smile on his lips, “You’re an artist.” Not many shinobi carried around something to sketch on in their pouch. Unless their special jutsu required it. But from what he knew about Shiranui he didn’t think this was the reason Genma did.
“Mmhmm.” Genma laughed, scooted back again so he could lean back against the wall. “Don’t worry, I’ll make this drawing look very frivolous and irreverent. All the detail of the musculature of your back, the way your hair falls, no one will think I’m doing anything but making myself material for... certain activities.”
He pressed his lips together tightly around his senbon to keep from laughing again, especially at his own reluctance to be flat out crude. He could almost say he felt young again.
“I like to draw people, actually. And do calligraphy and such.”
“From memory?” Minato asked softly, turning away again so Genma couldn’t see his face. He didn’t like carrying a photo of anyone around with him that an enemy could use against him if he were captured. And he has all the hope and confidence that this little side trip home will be short. So he’s not going to ask. But if things don’t work out. If it takes longer than expected to find a way to send everyone home. Maybe. He might ask then.
“I doodle on my reports and meeting notes, but I’m afraid I’m not very artistic.”
Genma snorted. “I’m not sure I’d call your doodles art, either. Though I have found some of them rather amusing, especially when you forgot which things were going to people you really should impress as... more proper than that.”
He hummed a little, sketched in a few more little details, and then his mind came back around to the question.
“I can draw most people I know from memory. People I’ve seen once or twice are a little more iffy, but I could probably do most of the village, if I put my mind to it. Certain details are harder, but... I like working with expressions, so I’ve practiced a lot on those.”
Minato laughed. “And here I thought it was a habit I would grow out of someday.”
Apparently not. But it was a comforting thought that his doodles didn’t prevent him from being chosen as the next Hokage. Especially when some of those doodles involved sending cranky old elders to other dimensions or Jiraiya-sensei’s most recent run in with Tsunade-hime.
“I should probably keep in mind not everyone will find my doodles as amusing as you do. But in my defence I am focusing on my work.”
“Mmhmm,” Genma said, with a tone that said the exact opposite. He found himself focused on the drawing a little more than he might normally; he wanted to be sure to get all the details of the tattoo, but he was also interested in the differences in Minato’s appearance now and when he’d known him.
He flushed a little when he realized that he probably was putting enough detail into the musculature of the man’s back to make it look like he was interested.
“Ah, you can move if you like, I think I’ve got enough here to go off... I just wanted to be sure I didn’t forget the details, so I can poke around for anything that looks similar. Quietly and discreetly, of course, mostly just taking a look at the premises themselves.”
“May I?” Minato asked, slipping his shirt back on and turning to hold out a hand to Genma. “Did you notice anything familiar about the pattern? I’m curious if everything about this place has been stolen at some point or if it’s only the people brought here by this so called machine.”
There are so many questions to answer to piece this puzzle together properly. But he honestly doesn’t needs all the answers. Only the ones that will get them all home.
Genma held out the drawing with an almost sheepish smile, then settled back against the wall a little more heavily.
“Well, here’s what I’ve gotten from Izumo and a friend of his I met so far, and looking around the place myself. A lot of the foods eaten around here are familiar enough, and both I and someone who sounded like he came from a culture very different from ours have seen plants that seem familiar. Of course, the people are a riot of every shape, size, and color, but... I don’t know. We’re kept fairly separate from the outside world of this place, but it would seem that world does have its own culture, and obviously they built the machine itself, so...”
He paused. “I think the only way everything could be stolen was if the Machine was originally used intentionally to travel between worlds, and whoever had it landed here and had their technology stolen or copied. But I think it more likely that the seeds of the technology started here, and the Scientists implement anything interesting they find on the Others when they arrive. I would assume there are entire councils of Scientists whose job it is to experiment on both Others and anything the Others bring with them. Perhaps ones they don’t deem useful for anything else.”
“Do you believe that they are trying to send us home? With a little help from us, of course. Work to earn the materials. Play in the games to entertain if you wish. But they’ll slap a collar around your neck....”
Minato is trying to not let his annoyance with this place show so easily. But Genma makes it difficult. He hasn’t known the man for more than an hour at most and already he feels like someone he can confide in.
“This is really good.” He commented, taking a seat next to Genma and focusing on the drawing instead. Or he might find himself looking for a safe, quiet place to work on the Rasengan just to vent some frustration.
Genma shook his head. “I’m not sure I”ve been here long enough to have a good grasp of the situation. My initial assessment doesn’t include any of the actual authorities: Izumo-kun said the man he claims is the dorm leader has been away, and I’ve only managed to properly speak to other... Others.”
He’d been amused when he’d heard that they were referred to as such. Something about it sounded so silly, almost like a child’s name for a boogeyman.
“I’m not inclined to think they mean well, but I can’t with all honesty say I know otherwise. From what Izumo-kun said-” He paused. “Ah, but he’s in his element here, and I’m not. He seems far more comfortable than I would have expected to see anyone be in such a situation, and he made me quite comfortable with it as well, to some degree.”
“Ah. Izumo-san is...interesting. I like his socks. I wonder if I could get something like them for Kushina.” Minato smiled, tracing the tattoo pattern with his eyes and committing as much as possible to memory before handing the drawing back to Genma.
He hasn’t spoken to many people since his arrival. Especially not since Itachi.
“Honestly, whatever is happening here isn’t my concern once we leave. As long as I can prevent them from taking anyone else from our world I’ll consider the mission a success. Until then...we’ll all have to make the best out of an annoying situation.”
Genma wanted to be serious. He’d been speaking somewhat casually, but it was a report nonetheless. To his Hokage. But he was still grasping the situation too, and something about sitting here with Minato, taking back the drawing of the man’s bare back...
Genma couldn’t help but laugh.
“You met Izumo and managed to notice his socks? That’s... something.”
“I try to be observant of my surroundings. That includes brightly colored socks.” Minato snorted. He leaned back and closed his eyes. Listening. To Genma. To his heart beat. Thinking about the tattoo and the collars and this place. A sort of mental mediation to clear his mind and focus on the details that escape his attention when he’s trying too hard to ignore certain things.
Like emotions.
“Will you play in the games?” he asked, focusing chakra into his hand. Just a little that he condensed and expanded. An exercise in control.
“I would assume so,” Genma said, his eyes sliding over the man beside him. He spoke slowly, a little more carefully than he might have to anyone else.
“Izumo-kun has spoken to the healers on my behalf, and I’ve met another young man who works with them, so that might be an avenue of income for me. But...”
There was a slight pause, a click of metal against his teeth as he shifted his senbon a little less smoothly than usual. “I think I’d be likely to learn more of use if I fought in the games. Izumo does well enough without it, but he works in the bar, and has far more applicable background than I do. But I should like to have a chance to get to know more of the locals, and that would probably require making some fans, so... I think it would be for the best.”
He didn’t much like it, and as much as he tried to keep that out of his voice, he didn’t quite manage. It wasn’t fighting itself that he found distasteful; that wasn’t his way. But the idea of fighting without a clear reason bothered him very much.
“Then consider it your mission and focus on the goal.” Minato spoke as carefully and slowly as Genma, not wanting to sound like he was imposing an order on the man, but a gentle reminder. Sometimes a shinobi couldn’t change what was necessary to complete their mission no matter how much they wanted to do just that.
“But you will have my support no matter what you choose, Genma.”
He flexes his hand and forces more chakra into his palm, what appears to be a chaotic whirlwind of energy.
Genma turned his eyes to what Minato was doing, watching carefully. He was, of course, completely used to Minato’s jutsu, but he had wondered just how much of what his Hokage was later known for he’d have managed by this age. But then Minato had been a legend before he was a Hokage, hadn’t he?
He shrugged a shoulder at the words.
“I appreciate that, Minato-sama. I have to admit... I was considering speaking to you, and asking... before I made any decisions. But I think seeing you...”
He turned his eyes back up to Minato’s face, then offered a lopsided smile. “Well, you have my loyalty, until the day that I die. But I can’t quite expect to just take up my post as I’d half-fantasized doing.”
Minato opened his eyes and turned to look at Genma, his hand closing around the blue ball of violent chakra, forcing it to dissipate.
“Understandable. I’m not the Hokage you remember and I’m only eighteen. You don’t know me. Right now very few actually do. Not as Namikaze Minato. And I haven’t earned anything here except a reputation for killing one of my own.”
He opened his hand again, filling his palm with chakra and manipulating it into something a little less visibly volatile.
“Your loyalty is appreciated, Genma. More than you know.”
Genma snorted, and found himself remembering what Izumo had said, when he himself had voiced something of the trust he felt for the chuunin. Somehow, Minato talking about appreciating his loyalty felt much the same way, except that he couldn’t exactly express his annoyance over it.
He looked away.
“You’re fidgety today. Even after a fight.”
“And you’re avoiding saying something.” Minato frowned, pushing more chakra into the growing ball of turmoil, the pain was a nice distraction. But not enough to distract him the conversation. Or the memory of Itachi. “Let me guess. Arrogant Hokage’s don’t appreciate their shinobi’s loyalty.”
He closed his hand again. A tight fist around the heat of his own chakra before it slowly began to fade.
“I’m far from the man everyone expects I will become someday. And I’m not fidgety. I’m....in desperate need of some proper tea and a hot spring.”
“Fidgety,” Genma repeated, a sort of quiet authority in his tone. He reached out quickly, snaked his hand around Minato’s wrist, and pulled the hand toward himself. He had seen Minato fidget before, but he wasn’t sure if this younger version had quite the control he’d come to know from the man.
“If I found you arrogant, I’d not be hunting you up this long after your death and sitting outside your door like a faithful dog. Now open your hand so I can look; you haven’t hurt it doing that, have you? And tell me about what you’re upset over, instead of doing that.”
“Pain is part of the process of learning.” Minato looked away, clenching his fist tighter for a moment before reluctantly opening his hand. He didn’t speak right away. It was one thing to talk to Jiraiya-sensei or Kushina or even sandaime-sama about things like this, but he was a private person and he respected others privacy.
Maybe it was because Genma was older, more experienced as a shinobi, and likely to understand. Or it could be that strange idea he’d considered before about bonds that are strong enough to reach across space and time. Whatever it was he felt comfortable enough to let Genma look at his hand. And to say what was making him so fidgety.
“I killed someone from our own village.”
Genma hadn’t heard that Minato had killed Itachi, only that there was some kind of issue between them. And thinking quickly, he wondered if that meant that Itachi had died after he himself had arrived in this world, considering Izumo had been concerned over how Itachi’s and Minato’s problem could potentially come between himself and Genma.
If Itachi were dead, that was no longer an issue, was it? Genma had been paying attention to rumors around, but there were a fair amount of them, and no small amount of “Others” to learn things about. He’d mostly likely just not happened upon anyone talking about the situation, but he felt a little remiss all the same.
He clicked the senbon against a tooth as he shuffled it against his mouth, but the carelessness wasn’t because of what was being said. No, it was a reaction to the burns on Minato’s hand. He tugged the hand further into his own space, resting it on his thigh just as comfortably as he would have done if it belonged to any of his best friends.
He didn’t ask for permission before he closed his own hands over it and started to channel chakra. Instead, he began to speak even as he healed Minato, as if the words might distract the future-Hokage into letting him have his way.
“Everyone has to do that, someday. It’s not an easy thing though, and there’s no shame in either the doing of it or the being unsettled by it. Did you think him a threat, at the time?”
“At the time, I reacted to an attack meant for me but involved innocent lives. When I think back to the fight, to that moment, I realize that it was most likely an accident made by a child still learning how to control his power.”
Minato turned his head even further, unfocused gaze set on the wall. “I’ve killed a lot of people, Genma. But this....this is the first time I’ve killed one of my own. Missing-nin or not, Itachi was a Konoha shinobi. And I didn’t hesitate to take his life.”
“Of course you didn’t.”
Genma frowned, leaned a little closer to the hand he was working on, focusing a little more as he discovered muscle damage. He was going to lecture Minato quite soundly about ‘accidents made by children’, but that would come after.
“When given the choice between innocent lives and your attacker, you chose innocent lives. How long had you been in this world, before then, Minato-sama? How well did you know Itachi, what he was capable of, what he’d been?”
“Not long. And what little I know of him were rumors he confirmed during our fight.” Minato slowly turned his forced smile towards Genma, blue eyes watching him work. It wasn’t really a smile. More like a sad disappointment that he didn’t get the chance to know Itachi better. “He wasn’t very fond of me. We had...disagreements my first day.”
“So.” Genma continued to let his chakra flow, and if he was taking longer than strictly necessary to give himself something to do; well, this Minato didn’t know he was capable of more, or of faster work, did he?
“What you’re telling me is that you - not the Hokage you would someday be, but the young shinobi you are now - arrived in a strange world. And the first day you arrived in that world, you had a run-in with a man who rightly should have been an ally, and yet wasn’t. And then, within a short amount of time after, in a situation where a fight between the two of you endangered others, you took his life?”
“You make it sound less complicated than it feels.” Minato frowned, already knowing where this was going. If it were another shinobi he would say the same thing. That didn’t change the feeling that he should have done something differently. And that really was what this was about. Feelings. Emotions he thought he had under control.
“I know we’re suppose to kill our emotions to do our job. And I try to avoid spending too much time thinking about the past, about the people I kill. But sometimes...I have to find the balance of power and compassion if I’m going to find a way to end the war and prevent another from starting. And Itachi...”
He stops, clenching his jaw and taking a slow, deep breath. It’s too much to think about all at once, but it’s most of what has been simmering below the surface since his arrival. “The Uchiha clan massacre....I might be able to stop it from happening. But how can I decide who lives and who dies in my own village? Especially when I’m not even suppose to be alive when it happens.”
That was a lot to process at once. Genma had only managed to think about the issue from the standpoint of this world; he didn’t honestly believe that things in their own world could somehow... did he?
And if he did, what did that mean? If Minato could change, say, the Uchiha Massacre. Or the current war? What would it mean to those who died, or those who lived? Or hell, those who were born because of those circumstances? He knew well enough that it wasn’t only misery that existed in the current world, that people’s lives existed now that wouldn’t exist otherwise, or could be massively different.
That difference could be better, but...? Would it? Wasn’t trying to change the future just as bad as bringing back the dead, in a way?
Genma didn’t know how to say any of that, especially not to the man beside him, who he knew would not accept the idea that there was nothing he could do about anything. The very reason he had - in his youth - idolized Minato so was rooted in that sort of optimism. No, not optimism. Stubbornness. The same kind of stubbornness Genma had since seen displayed by Minato’s son.
The flow of chakra from his hands into Minato’s wounded one flickered and died, but he didn’t let go.
“That’s... a lot. But Minato-sama... if what you do or learn here can change our world, then... haven’t you already prevented the Uchiha massacre?”
“Not yet.” Minato sighed, the weight of responsibility feeling far heavier today than ever before. But the weight of Genma’s hand was comforting. “The Itachi I killed was from my future. When I do return to my own time I have to decide if what I learn here will be used to change the future. I don’t believe in changing history, the rippling effect is very dangerous. But I can’t ignore what I’ve learned. And I can’t ignore the effects it will have on your future. This is why time-space jutsu’s are very dangerous and mostly forbidden. Mine is the exception because I don’t actually move into the past or the future. I move from one point to another so quickly that I can be in more than one place at a time.”
That was the easiest explanation of what he was capable of doing with his jutsu. And that was far more than he had expected to say in one breath. He stops himself there and offers Genma an apologetic smile.
“I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”
“Yes, your jutsu is a little different,” Genma said, off-handedly. He didn’t say that he knew how to do that jutsu himself, since he couldn’t use it by himself and therefore it wouldn’t do him any good, here.
As for all the more complicated stuff, he wasn’t sure what to say about it. Obviously, it weighed heavily on Minato, and that was an important thing. But at very least, Minato had grasped the same thing that was bothering Genma: that it would change everything.
He wrinkled his nose at the smile.
“That’s a lot to be on anyone’s mind. And of course Itachi would have already committed the massacre; I wasn’t aware of what time he’d come here from because I never saw him, but if that’s the case... there isn’t anything you could have done about that either way, from this side. And from this side, there’s nothing you could have done differently in that fight with the limited information you were given. The problem is that within a ninja village there are entire networks of shinobi working to gain intelligence, to strategize, to supply each other and their leaders with information, training, and equipment. Each mission taken by a single shinobi or a small team of shinobi has all of that behind it. It’s true that things change on missions that can’t be forseen, and that snap decisions have to be made, but...”
Genma squeezed the hand held between his own, very gently.
“You’re flying blind here, without any of that. You can’t make those sorts of decisions about the future, or about Konoha, from here; because you aren’t going to have the full picture of what is happening in those moments until you reach them.”
“In other words, I’m thinking too deeply about things I have no control over at the moment.” Minato snorted softly, letting his head fall back against the wall. He didn’t usually allow himself this kind of comfortable openness. Not with someone he barely knew. But it was helping to refocus his mind on the here and now.
One battle at a time. Like shogi. One piece at a time, one movement at a time, all leading to the end result: winning the game. His mind often jumped forward several moves and planned ahead. But he was missing important pieces of information and was in enemy territory.
“I know I shouldn’t ask....but who is the current Hokage?” He has many other questions he would like to ask and knows he can’t, knows he shouldn't, but this one seems harmless enough.
“I should have said that as succinctly,” Genma said with a laugh. Since Minato hadn’t claimed his hand back, he rubbed a small circle onto the palm, a small slow steady flow of chakra starting up again. But rather than actually healing, he simply massaged, gently trying to relieve tension.
“Asking those sorts of questions... could become a dangerous thing. There are many things” - and again, there’s a flash, the resemblance between this man and one now nearing his age striking - “that I would love to be able to tell you, but that probably wouldn’t be good for you to hear, just more to worry over or be unsure about.”
He could give such a simple answer as this though, couldn’t he? Genma sighed. “The Fifth Hokage is Tsunade-sama,” he said, very quietly.
“Tsunade-hime? Jiraiya-sensei’s favorite person to spy on and nearly get himself killed over? That Tsunade?” Minato asked, jerking his head away from the wall, unable to not stare a little wide eyed at Genma as a smile creeped up around the corners of his mouth. “I’m not surprised, not really, she’s amazing and perfectly capable...but Jiraiya-sensei...her temper is legendary.”
But the way Genma said her name, there was something there that stopped him from going on. More than a little something. More than he should know about the future.
“Konoha is in good hands, then. A healer's hands.” He smiled then, this one for Genma and the gentle flow of comforting chakra.
Genma snorted. “She’s terrible. She drinks and gambles and doesn’t want to do her paperwork, her temper hasn’t abated one bit, and she’s likely to kill us all one day because we looked at her funny.”
There was laughter in his voice though, and he pressed his lips together to keep from laughing outright after the words. Then he added, in a quieter tone, “she’s amazing, yes. And I’m as proud to guard her, to serve her, as I was to serve the Third. But.”
He shrugged a shoulder.
“I have a bit of a soft spot for the first Hokage I served, that’s all.”
With that, he flicked his fingers in Minato’s palm, the bit of chakra still in the fingertips tingling through the skin, and moved his own hands away, leaving the other man’s hand abandoned on his leg.
Minato stared at his hand for a moment before closing it around the fading sensation of Genma’s chakra, as if grasping it and holding onto it. He took his hand back only when there was nothing left to hold onto. When all he could feel was his own chakra.
“Thank you, Genma.” Minato smiled, flexing his hand. But the thank you was for more than simply healing his hand. He’d needed someone to confide in, to trust, someone he could be himself around. And as much as he hated the idea of them both being trapped here, out of their worlds and so far from home, Genma was quickly becoming that person. Call it instinct. Or an invisible bond that linked them together even through time. He felt comfortable with this man at his side.
But Genma was right. Asking questions would only lead to more worrying and knowledge of the future was a dangerous weapon to hold. So he kept the question about the Sandaime-sama’s death to himself.
“I’m glad to know I somehow manage to become a Hokage worthy of being someone’s soft spot.”
There was a softness in Genma’s voice as he responded, at first. “You’re welcome.”
Again there was that earnestness, the harkening back to his younger self. He hadn’t exactly become a cynic over the years or anything; he still believed in that “Will of Fire” just as much as he had then, but he had become... different. And somehow Minato was drawing him back out in a way that was almost a little frightening.
The softness was drowned under playfulness, deliberately.
“Just don’t get your ego going too much, Minato. I’d hate to see you strutting about being al cocky when you don’t quite have all your tricks and experience to back it up yet.”
He winked and slid toward the edge of the bed, taking his drawing with him.
“I’m working on one of my tricks. Just give me some time.” Minato smirked, leaning back against the wall again, watching Genma. “I promise to not strut too much. Will that help ease your concern for my well being?”
This was nice. Having someone to tease and talk to like a friend. In truth, he’d missed this. Kushina was his best friend and he always had Jiraiya-sensei and Sandaime-sama. But in recent years everything he had went into training and finding new ways to be the best he could be to save lives. Friends outside of his little circle was few and far between when the battlefield was more of a home than his own back in Konoha.
“Genma.”
Genma turned his head to look back at Minato, carefully tucking the drawing away into a pouch. He was still trying to get used to the image of the younger version of his Hokage, but there was still something familiar in the way the man leaned, the way he held himself. Still Minato.
Genma smiled, reached out, and dropped a hand to pat at Minato’s ankle for a second.
“Hmm?”
“We should get together and discuss potential experiments we can try on the seal...tattoo...whatever the hell this thing is. Let’s see how far we can push it before it pushes back. And then let’s break it.”
Oh, he would play nice and do what he had to do to survive in this place. Fight in the games, make friends, live a life that wasn’t meant to be his life. But he would not stop until he found a way out of this place, a way home. For all of them. Even if it meant sacrificing himself to find it.
“That was the idea, yes.” Genma stretched a little, comfortably, and then shrugged his shoulders. “I’m still getting settled in. Just got here. Give me a couple of days, and then we’ll work on it.”
He didn’t defer, not this time. At least, not entirely. Of course, if Minato had told him to stab himself in the eye right that moment... well, no, he wouldn’t have done that either. But he would have gone to quite some lengths to follow orders. Minato, however, didn’t have the air of a man giving orders.
Genma followed that lead.
“I’ll do everything I can.” He’d already said it, made it clear, but it came out again automatically.
“Thank you. Again.” Minato sighed, pushing himself off the bed and moving to retrieve one of his special kunai. “Take this. If you need me....I’ll know.”
He held the kunai out for Genma to take and then he started gathering his things to take with him instead of taking a shower like he’d planned. He needed to work on the Rasengan and other seals that could possibly take them home. And he needed to empty his mind of everything. There was no better way to do that than training.
Genma held the kunai loosely in his hand, his eyes stuck to it as if he couldn’t look away.
The symbol was still familiar. The jutsu was still familiar as well, considering he’d just used it before arriving here. But there was something different about receiving the kunai from Minato’s hand that way, knowing that Minato would come to help him, rather than... well.
Things really were different here, somehow.
Genma nodded, slowly, and then stepped toward the door, pausing as he reached for the handle. “You going out?”
“I have a jutsu to complete, seals to create, a seal to break, and it wouldn’t hurt to work in a few kata’s while I’m out there.”
Unlike his preparations for the games, Minato armed himself with as many of his special kunai as he could carry on his body, added a few scrolls to his pouch for notes and studying, and grabbed a small bag of hard candies from his drawer.
“It’s not much of a forest, but what they do have reminds me of the forest in and around Konoha. It’s the only place I’ve found any privacy for training. You’re welcome to join me anytime.”
Genma nodded. “I was there for a little bit earlier, actually. Met a friend of Izumo’s.” He waved his hand, though there was a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. The kid had been amusing. And cutely crushing, or at least he thought so.
Not on him, thankfully.
He slid his feet back into his shoes, opened the door, and held it for Minato. “I’ll definitely take you up on the invitation to train, someday soon. We’ll see how this old body holds up against young genius.”
He winked, stood waiting. “Not today. I’ve been nothing but busy since I showed up, and I think I need to go relax for a bit. With my new drawing.”
“Be sure to relax properly with that.” Minato smirked, a teasing glint in his eyes as he slipped past Genma into the hall. “I look forward to seeing what my future bodyguard is capable of. And where we might need to work on things.”
He gave Genma one last smirk before disappearing, using the hidden kunai in the forest to avoid being followed.
Genma rolled his eyes, and instead of walking away as he had meant to do, found himself leaning back against Minato’s door. His eyes fell closed - though of course he was very aware of his surroundings - and he drew in slow steady breaths.
Strangely, now that he’d talked to the man, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry for the loss of him - his own and the village’s and everyone else’s - or if he wanted to laugh until his sides ached.